The thick parchment sheet unrolled across Marshal Krail’s table was an exquisite piece of military drafting, carried out in dark brown dark oak-ink with watercolor washes of pale green and ochre marking roads, rivers, and woodland boundaries. At the top of the sheet, rendered in elegant royal calligraphy, ran the title: TOPOGRAPHICAL SURVEY OF THE OAKHAVEN PLATEAU AND THE NORTH RELAY JUNCTION.
Kezra leaned over the table. That kept her hands off the paper. Meanwhile, her map maker’s eye absorbed the layout in three rapid sweeps.
The map depicted a broad, raised river terrace situated at the confluence of the River Leat and the Great North Road, thirty miles into the western lowlands. On the bluffs overlooking the river sat a sprawling market town surrounded by timber palisades, orchards, and dozens of water-powered flour mills. Above the town, on an expansive plateau marked with the compass rose, an area of one thousand and twenty-four paces square had been ruled in red vermilion ink, labeled in Krail’s bold hand. PROPOSED SITE FOR STONEWAKE CITADEL.
“Look at the strategic geography, Mistress Venn,” Krail said, his thick forefinger tracing the convergence of the roads. “Here at Oakhaven, the wool trade from the southern dales meets the timber barges from the Great Forest and the grain carts from the western plains. For fifty years, three petty merchant leagues have fought over the bridge tolls, hiring mercenary bands to burn grain stores whenever a rival trade ring gains an advantage. It’s wasteful, destructive chaos that…
